American Dreams Trilogy

by Michael Phillips

  He then placed around her neck a necklace of shell-wampum of great value and named her a ghigua of the Cherokee nation. Then he motioned for one of the black slaves who had been captured in the battle to be brought forward. He was now presented to Nanye’hi as the most prized of the spoils of the battle.

  But Nanye’hi cared little for the honors bestowed on her. She grieved for her young husband and fatherless children. She could not know the legacy and example of her heroism she would become for Cherokee women everywhere, and for all time.

  Attacullaculla continued to be the primary voice among the Cherokee for peace on the council, as the “civil” or white chief. Oconostota, however, especially after his defeat of the Creeks, did not share Attacullaculla’s wish for friendship with the English settlers, reminding the other chiefs at every opportunity that their ancient borders had been pushed back to half their original extent, that the wild game had diminished, that their children were forgetting the ways of the ancestors, and worst of all, that whole villages had been decimated by the smallpox from which he himself had suffered and was still scarred. The only hope for Cherokee survival was to drive the English and all white settlers from their lands.

  Attacullaculla, however, had seen with his own eyes the advantages and strengths and appeal of a civilization far more advanced than his own. He continued to argue for adaptation, saying they should accept what they could of the white man’s ways, and did all that lay in his power to promote good relations as beneficial for the Cherokee. To Attacullaculla’s grief, his eldest son sided with the war party. Dragging Canoe had his father’s gift of persuasive speech and the young men flocked around him. The outbreak of war between the French and the English over control of Indian lands, mostly in the North, in 1755 precipitated a new era of fighting and violence throughout the colonies, even among those tribes not directly involved. More than ever the English needed forts and allies in Cherokee territory.

  Three new forts were built, one within five miles of the Cherokee capital town of Echota, and fighting and skirmishes continued—fueled by hostilities between the two European powers. Within a short time the tenuous alliance between the Cherokee and the English colonies was hanging by a thread. Time and again only the eloquence of Attacullaculla prevented it breaking apart altogether. His diplomacy and tact saved as many English lives as Cherokee. He pled the cause of his own people with the military leaders of the colonies, but just as often prevented his cousin and the war party from ruthless attacks against the whites. Attacullaculla helped persuade the Governor of South Carolina in 1757 to construct what would be Fort Loudon, both to strengthen English control in the area and also to encourage more trade between the Cherokee and the towns of the eastern coast. He invited colonial traders to establish headquarters in Chota, to promote yet more trade and commerce, and at the same time encouraged these white traders to take Cherokee wives.

  But an incident in 1759, in which a militia of Virginians killed and scalped twenty Cherokee after a joint mission against the French and Shawnee, pushed the chief of the white feather too far. Even Attacullaculla vowed revenge.

  The reaction within the tribe was outrage and horror. Attacullaculla’s son Dragging Canoe and many other young warriors immediately clamored for retaliatory raids upon the English. The chiefs did their best to dissuade them, saying they would first attempt to negotiate restitution for the killings with the colonies of Virginia, North Carolina, and South Carolina. But their requests fell on deaf ears.

  Within months, led by Attacullaculla’s son, young warriors began raiding and burning colonial settlements. South Carolina declared war on the Cherokee and mobilized its militia.

  Oconostota and a party of thirty prominent Cherokee chiefs rode to Charleston in an attempt to negotiate peace with the Governor before all out war erupted. The Governor perceived an opportunity that might not come again. Though the delegation had come in peace, he immediately arrested Oconostota and the Cherokee leaders. He gave orders for the thirty hostages to be marched under military guard back to Fort Prince George, where they were imprisoned.

  Governor Lyttleton then sent for Attacullaculla, known friend of the British.

  The hour was early. A stocky man, shorter than many of the women of the village but strong in mind and limb, wrapped an otter skin around his bare shoulders and walked quietly from the village.

  Smoke rose from a dozen or more lodges as he went. The women had begun to stir. Within an hour the village would be alive with activity. The sky was clear and promised warmth, but the chill of night just past still held the gray dawn in its grip.

  He walked to the creek, stepped across the log over it, and continued up the hill on the opposite side. After a few minutes he paused and glanced behind him. A figure followed. He waited.

  “You are out on the hills early, White Owl,” she said approaching.

  “No earlier than you, my sister.”

  “I saw you leave the village. I knew you were burdened. Your face speaks of much thought.”

  “It is not only for the gentleness of your countenance that you are called Tame Doe,” he said. “You have the keen eyes of one quiet of spirit who sees what many cannot.”

  “That is only because I know you so well, my brother. I have been watching your many moods since before I can remember. Tame Doe looked up to White Owl.”

  Again he smiled, the older brother recalling with fondness the years now long past when his sister was so young in his youthful eyes. Now she stood three inches taller than he, though he was ten years her elder.

  “You are weighed down by what you must do. When do you leave to see Governor?”

  “Soon… later today.”

  “What will be outcome?”

  “I do not know, but I fear preventing war will be difficult. What else can I conclude with Oconostota and the others not returning but that he took them hostage? Perhaps he will imprison me as well.”

  “He would not dare. British respect you as most powerful Cherokee chief of peace among our people.”

  “I am not so certain, my sister. This governor is more American than English.”

  “And Oconostota?”

  “If he has his way, I will have no opportunity to achieve peace. He is full of anger. He will not give my way a chance to succeed.”

  “He went to governor seeking peace.”

  “Only because he saw no other choice.”

  “He would say your way has been tried with settlers and has failed.”

  “Perhaps he is right. Every promise they make is broken. They take more and more of our land. They enslave our people. They kill without compunction.”

  “Would they not say the same of Oconostota and our young warriors who kill and burn their homes? I have heard them call us savages.”

  “It is true. In their eyes, such we must seem. But it is not we who have taken their land. Many of their traders cheat us. They lie. They drive us to retaliate. Truly this white race from the land called England can be a cruel and heartless people. I do not understand how they have so little honor, so little care for justice to fellow men. And yet—”

  Attacullaculla drew in a deep sigh and shook his head slowly.

  “And yet… you desire peace.”

  “I cannot give up the hope that it may be so, that men even of different colors can live together without bloodshed. Our father taught me to love peace. I have worn the white feather all my life.”

  “That is why you still wear ring of peace,” said Tame Doe, nodding toward her brother’s right hand, whose middle finger was encircled by a band of gold.

  He glanced down at his hand and nodded.

  “You are only one of seven who still wears ring of peace.”

  “It was agreed among us that the rings would honor the white feather of peace, and that they would not be worn in times of war. Before the delegation set out for Charleston with Oconostota, even though the mission was to negotiate peace, five of the seven removed their rings and gave them to me for
safekeeping. We feared lest they be stolen or captured by our enemy.”

  “The fears were well founded. Now they are all captive.”

  “If the English knew that four of the chiefs they are holding were honored by their own king in his own court… perhaps it would mean nothing. They can be a ruthless people.”

  “But were not all rings given to you?”

  “Ounakannowie has abandoned our cause. He has come to despise me. His ring is now in Oconostota’s possession.”

  “Where are others?”

  “They are safe, my sister,” smiled Attacullaculla. “For your own safety it is best you do not know. There are some who consider the rings filled with magical powers. I fear the result if they were controlled by the chiefs of the red feather, though Oconostota now possesses one.”

  “Yet you still wear yours?”

  “I must be a symbol of peace to our people as long as I wear the white feather.”

  “What will happen?”

  “I will speak to the governor. Even now my son would mass our warriors to march on the fort to rescue the captives. But I will try again to make them see the folly of open war. Their numbers are too great. Peace is the only way our people will survive.”

  They glanced up to see a young woman of twenty-three approaching.

  “Ah, young Nanye’hi,” said the chief with a smile, “you are out with the beaver and rabbit.”

  “I was out for a walk before children awake,” said the girl, walking toward Tame Doe. “I wish to speak with you, Uncle.”

  Attacullaculla stared at his niece for a moment, as if seeing her dawning maturity in the well-defined angular features of her face in a new way.

  “I have noticed that trader Ward at the post has a fondness for you, Nanye’hi,” he said.

  The girl’s cheeks flushed slightly.

  “He is kind to me.”

  “Do you love him, Nanye’hi?”

  “How is one ever sure? He is English, Uncle.”

  “That is why the young have elders, to keep them from foolishness. You have your mother who is a Tame Doe and has the wise and watchful eyes of a quiet heart. You have a father who is a brave warrior, who has killed to protect our people yet has the gentle touch of a kind father. By trusting their wisdom, you too will grow wise.”

  “And by trusting your uncle, our chief,” added Tame Doe. “What is it you wish to say?”

  “I do not find it pleasant to own my black man,” said Nanye’hi. “Why should I among all the Cherokee have slave?”

  “You are kind to him,” said Attacullaculla. “As he came to you for your bravery, you honor our people by being kind to him. He reveres you almost as much as do our people. Slaves were treated cruelly by the Creeks. In his eyes, you saved his life.”

  As Nanye’hi left them a few minutes later, uncle and mother watched in silence as she disappeared down the slope in the direction of the village.

  “She is a remarkable young woman, Tame Doe,” said the chief. “She too, I think, loves peace. But she is a feisty one who has courage and grit—she possesses her father’s blood as well.”

  “She will be better equipped to make her peace with it than I. I do not like the scalps outside our lodge. I grieve at the thought of death. But my husband is Fivekiller.”

  “You are indeed a Tame Doe,” smiled Attacullaculla. “Your Nanye’hi will rise high among our people. She is a daughter to make a mother proud. I perceive greatness in her eyes. She will encounter much that we cannot foresee. Times are changing. Our people must change with them. It will not be easy for some.”

  Upon Attacullaculla’s arrival at Fort Prince George, the South Carolina governor explained that his fellow chiefs had been imprisoned and were being held pending a solution to the recent massacres. Governor Lyttleton then demanded that Attacullaculla turn over twenty-four Cherokee warriors who were accused of killing whites in the recent raids. One of them was the peace chief’s own son.

  “I will do what I am able,” replied Attacullaculla. “But you are asking a great deal.”

  “They are murderers,” returned the Governor insolently.

  “Are they any more so than the whites who scalped my own people.”

  “I am told that was done by the French.”

  “They were Virginian Englishmen,” said Attacullaculla calmly. “If you are seeking causes to this recent violence between our peoples, it is to your own colonists you must look first.”

  “There were many charges of theft of horses and poultry in Virginia.”

  “Some of those charges were true,” nodded Attacullaculla, “but only because our warriors were left starving after the Shawnee war, and were deserted and left helpless by the very colonists they were assisting. You know the truth of the incident as well as I, my lord Governor. For twenty years I have done everything in my power to preserve the peace between our two nations. I have saved more white lives than I can count. But even my patience has limits. I have not forgiven the Virginians for the heartless murders of my people, nor their Governor for paying his colonists bounty for Cherokee scalps. I do not forget treachery, my lord Governor. There are many of my people who clamor for war against you, even should our entire tribe die in the attempt to preserve our heritage. I hold them back as one man trying to stop a river that is swollen to a flood and is ready to burst. If war comes, many will die, and I will be unable to prevent it. We have given you everything. We have sold you the best of our lands. Our people are dead from your guns and your diseases. This is our land and you take it and treat us as vermin beneath your feet. Does your thirst to consume us have no end!”

  Governor Lyttleton sat in silence, astonished and angered to hear the ordinarily calm Attacullaculla lecture him with such passion. But the man’s noble bearing and command of the facts were irrefutable.

  “I regret what happened in Virginia,” began Lyttleton in reply. “What Governor Dinwiddie did in the matter of the scalps is without excuse, and I would never—”

  “There are many who would say,” interrupted Attacullaculla, “that your imprisoning my brothers, when they came to you on a mission of peace, is the act of a traitor and a coward.”

  “How dare you speak to me like that!”

  “I speak the truth, my lord Governor. Do you deny that what you did was an act of treachery?”

  “In times of war, extraordinary measures are called for. I did what was necessary.”

  “Your colonists broke the treaty your own king, and your own colony made with my people. Your colonies break every agreement we make with you.”

  “I thought you were a man of peace!”

  “I hope I am. That is why I am here. I will do what I can to bring those responsible for the killings to justice. But on your part, you must release my kinsmen to show your good faith. They will help me among our people to convey your demands.”

  “I will do no such thing!” snapped the Governor.

  “Then I fear there is little I can do,” replied Attacullaculla. He rose to leave the room.

  “Wait,” said the Governor behind him. “I will tell you what—I will release three of the prisoners.”

  “They are not prisoners, my lord Governor,” said Attacullaculla, “but Cherokee chiefs whom you took hostage under false pretences.”

  “Bah—you are splitting hairs. I just offered to release three of them.”

  Attacullaculla thought a moment, then nodded in agreement.

  Within an hour, he was on his way home with Oconostota and two others, discussing their options for freeing the rest of the hostages. Angered by the Governor’s duplicitous tactics, Oconostota was no longer thinking of peaceful solutions.

  When Attacullaculla next left for the British fort with two of the warriors that had been demanded, Oconostota took the opportunity of his absence to ride among the towns and villages raising a party of warriors to be ready in the event his cousin’s negotiations failed. Attacullaculla’s return a few days later, without the hostages, was all the answ
er Oconostota needed.

  The war chief sent word to the commander of Fort Prince George requesting a conference. The meeting took place in the dead of winter in the early months of 1760. Oconostota rode with his party of warriors to the meeting on the Savannah River near Fort Prince George where their Cherokee brothers were still captive. But there would be no more talk of peace from his mouth. This time Attacullaculla remained behind.

  As they drew near the site of the meeting, Oconostota instructed some of his warriors to move in a circular route through the wooded region in order to gain a closer vantage point to the white men. The main party came to the bank of the river. On the opposite side stood the captain and two officers from the fort and their interpreter. Suddenly Oconostota raised his arm. Gunshots from his warriors in hiding burst out. All four white men were wounded. Knowing they had been double-crossed, they fled and made for the fort.

  Raising the war cry, Oconostota and his party forded the river, galloped after them, and stormed the fort. But their few numbers and guns were no match for the barricaded and well-armed English troops. The attack was repulsed and Oconostota and his party could do nothing but take their dead and wounded and retreat. Two days later Captain Cotymore died from his wounds. All the Cherokee hostages, most of them respected chiefs of the tribe, were murdered the same day.

  The chief of the white feather had done all he could. But Attacullaculla could no longer hold back the violence. Within months, full scale war erupted between the Cherokee and the English colonies.4

  Nanye’hi Ward, Beloved Woman

  of the Cherokee

  1754-1802

  Attacullaculla’s predictions about his niece Nanye’hi, daughter of Tame Doe and Fivekiller, proved true. As she grew from a young widow to a self-reliant mother at twenty to a beautiful woman at thirty, to a majestic matron at forty, to a queen of the Cherokee at fifty, her fame throughout the Cherokee nation grew into legend. Even white men throughout the colonies and then the states of the new nation heard rumors of the tall Wild Rose of stunning beauty and stately dignity of the Cherokee. It was said that her glistening long silky hair was blacker than a moonless night, and that her delicate tan skin was as soft and fair as rose petals. Her piercing black-green eyes were of deeper green than the emerald of any mountain stream and were capable of enchanting all who laid eyes on her. Whites did not know the strange word Ghigua, but they knew that the Beloved Woman of the Cherokee was held in higher honor than many of her chiefs.